Saxon Legacy
by Ghost of the Navigator
Summary: A series of tales about the Saxons and their foes. Fighting, scouting, assasination, and marriage all found here.
1. Celtic Struggle I

**Celtic Struggle I**

The horse hooves made the ground shudder as the battalions rode along the mountains. They had been sent by King Berthold to scout along the borders of the land. To seek out the enemies that hid waiting for a chance to attack. The Saxons were a ferocious bunch of barbarians willing to do anything to get what they wanted with a good selection of horsemen, infantry and axemen in each army. The heir to the faction's throne Gerthesnon was leading this army. They had no fear in their hearts, they rode or marched against anything in their way.

They came upon a large hill in the mountain pass and as they began the struggle up the hill Gerthesnon got a strange feeling. Something was wrong. He halted his men and listened. He thought he heard a cry resounding over and over. He ordered for the army to march on up the hill. At the top it was Gerthesnon who got the first look over. What he saw there made his hairs stand on end, a thing that is not usually made to happen to an experienced soldier. A camp had been set up on the other side of the mountain. A flag flew from the biggest tent. The Celtic Flag.

The Celts were a rambling band of ferocious fighters whose infantry talent could not be beaten. They tended not to use cavalry and archers would always travel. They had set up their camp here supposedly to regroup for an attack. In the distance infantrymen were visible, impaling sandbags with their swords or spears and slashing open sandbags with their axes that gleamed in the sun. How long had they been there for? That was the question that Gerthesnon put to himself. He didn't know and he didn't like the look of it. He would have to go back and tell his father of what he had seen. An arrow hit the ground beside him. He would have to go quickly.


	2. Celtic Struggle II

**Celtic Struggle II**

The doors burst open at the end of the King's Hall. So called, because it was the Hall that led to the King.

King Berthold was sitting at his golden table. He was having his dinner when he heard footsteps outside his room. He set down his golden knife and fork down beside his golden plate and turned to see the door open.

"Father! Father!" shouted Gerthesnon, "Celts to the North! They are camped in the mountains!"

"What! Right son, quickly…summon the men to fight. I want every able bodied men in my kingdom."

"As you wish, my lord."

So Gerthesnon headed out to Githeres Saxonus to recruit what men he could. He sent his scouts out to Hisbidian, Lipohum and Kyguymen. As a result of the scouting a good 5,000 men came from Githeres Saxonus as well as 2,000 from Hisbidian and Kyguymen and 1,000 from Lipohum. 10,000 men made the journey to there capital. They were all equipped with whatever weapons and armour they needed whether they were archers, spearmen or and other infantry or cavalry troops.

Some of the men had travelled many miles to get there and the men were given a days rest before being ordered to move out. Berthold and Gerthesnon moved with the men into the mountains. Berthold stayed at the back with his prized archers and cavalry while Gerthesnon led the whole procession through the mountains until, 3 hours later they saw the hill up ahead.

Gerthesnon gave the order to halt. He turned and looked at his troops stretching for what seemed like a mile. Many had come to fight but was it enough? The troops were tired looking, in need of a rest. Many had already sat down. But Gerthesnon did not punish them for not staying in formation. Instead he took a sympathetic touch and let his men down.

"We shall rest for a few hours until we are ready to fight and then the battle will commence."

He looked about for his scouts and saw them leaning against one of the walls of the pass. You three come with me. He marched with them, up to the top of the hill and looked over. Yes there they were still practising their killing methods but did they know that they would soon be attacked? Would they be practising for that purpose? Building themselves up into a frenzy?

These three questions ran through Gerthesnon's mind. He had no answers and just then he spied a woman walking along between the tents. He was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and suddenly the fact that she was Celtic did not matter to him anymore. He knew in his heart he loved her, but he could not meet her because it would put him and his people in danger. He must put her out of his mind for the time being, until the battle was fought and won.

2 hours had passed and the troops were rested and ready. They were put once again into formation and ordered onwards. Berthold was now at the front of the army leading them on. He was riding on his white, clean horse which had golden armour around its face and body. He hit the hill first followed on by his infantry and his son leading the cavalry and axemen. The archers were being led by one General Falkis who was battle-hardened and fearless.

They were half way up the hill ready and waiting to fight. They continued on until they came to the top of the hill. Berthold stood there on his horse staring down into the camp. He could see that some Celts had already spotted them and were arming themselves. He turned to face his army and shouted out to them, "Do not show fear and do not show pain and we will be victorious!" He turned back to face the camp and 2 seconds later he clicked his heels together and started to ride down the hill. He drew his sword and held it high.

"Charge!"


	3. Celtic Struggle III

**Celtic Struggle III**

There was a loud rumble and the ground began to shake. Donnchan, the Celtic leader was awoken from his sleep. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned. He stood, wobbled as he was still half asleep and opened up the doors of his large tent. He looked out and moved his eyes to see what it was that had woken him from his deep sleep. He looked to the training ground. Something strange was happening. Soldiers were running everywhere frantically, some attaching armour to their bodies, some slotting weapons into carriers around their waist. Something was wrong here. What could it be? He moved his eyes to the tents. Men were running around there as well. What was happening? And why hadn't he been told? Once again he moved his eyes until they settled on the hill that led deeper into the mountains. Something was up there. There were fire sticks being held. Suddenly one of the fire sticks started moving quickly down the hill and a call was heard faintly.

"Charge!"

Berthold was halfway down the hill when the troops moved off with a loud cry. Soldiers flooded the top of the hill. More and more hit the slope and raced down to the camp. Led by Berthold the men felt no fear in them. They would fight for their king. Whatever happened they would fight.

Berthold with his sword held high was the first to hit the camp however he was met with a big welcome. Arrows dropped around him. They were all off target. He had been lucky but that wouldn't last long. Luck never does in war.

Celtic infantry moved to meet the Saxon King as he galloped through their camp. Before they got there though, Berthold's horse suddenly buckled at the knees. Then the horse tipped over on to the ground. Berthold's right leg was trapped underneath the heavy body of the horse. The infantry was getting closer on both sides but the first to reach the king was a Celt holding a large battleaxe. The Celt laughed loudly and stared down into the eyes of Berthold. He lifted up the axe behind his head and prepared to swing when a large spear was thrust into his chest. Berthold moved his head to look at who had saved him. Gerthesnon stood with the end of the spear in his hand and yanked it out forcefully. The Celt gurgled and fell to the ground. At that point the infantries of both side met and the battle began. Gerthesnon and his scouts used their strength to pull Berthold and his horse away from the battle. They pulled him behind a large rock for cover.

"Father…are you alright?" Gerthesnon asked.

Berthold was breathing heavily after the horse was pulled off him.

"Yes…I…think so. Get back out there and attack with your men. They need you to lead them but leave your scouts with me here. We can defend ourselves. Go, now, go!"

He did. Gerthesnon broke cover from the large rock and ran back into the battle. Men dropped to the ground like dead flies as he swung his sword. Backed up by a vast infantry he succeeded in breaking the front line troops, though his men were quickly declining in numbers. The Celt berserkers with battleaxes wreaked havoc on the Saxon infantry who didn't know how to handle them.

While this small battle raged on between the infantries. General Falkis, who had taken over the lead of the cavalry decided to use a new tactic. He sent the archers on into battle and took full control over the cavalry. He had spotted a dark pass that led through the wall and seemed to come out on along the wall. He moved his cavalry to the side with him and took a look down the pass. It was black with a small opening of light somewhere up ahead.

"Sure we'll try it…if it doesn't work then we'll just…well actually I don't know what we'll do. Oh well, time's wasting."

With that he led his cavalry down the narrow past. Inside the pass it was wet and slimy. Uneven stones made up the floor and these stones were covered in some sort of slippery substance. Not an easy terrain to move through. Eventually they came to the end of the pass and emerged just as Falkis had thought, behind the enemy camp.

They got into formation and waited until further orders were given. They did not have to wait long.

"Right men, good luck, on my order we will charge at the back of their line and hopefully we will break through and ultimately drive them off our land. Ready…charge!"

The cavalry in formation moved off at a trot that turned quickly into a gallop. They threw up dust from the ground with their hooves and the ground rumbled. They weren't far from the Celtic backline when the Celtic leader, Donnchan emerged from his tent in full armour holding his sword.

A small group of the cavalry drew away from the group and started to gallop towards Donnchan. He saw them coming and got into position. As they got closer to him, Donnchan ran forward at them. He swung his sword and destroyed the small cavalry group. After doing that he ran over to the infantry battle and joined the fight against the Saxon army. He was hit in the battle. A deep wound from an axe blade. A wound that was halfway through his right arm. He dropped his sword with the pain and pulled back to his tent to be treated.

Meanwhile the cavalry where getting closer to the battle. They gave loud cries before eventually hitting the line. All the Celtic infantry were concentrated on the battle in hand and so were easily cut down when the cavalry hit.

Some armed with spears others with swords they galloped through the infantry killing whoever they fancied. Eventually all the infantry were destroyed one way or another. But they had not forgotten about the king. The cavalry pulled back while the infantry rested. Cavalry surrounded the tent. Gerthesnon stood at the front and as first to enter the tent. Some men dismounted from their horses and followed him in.

They found Donnchan sitting on a pile of cushions being looked after by what appeared to be two of his scouts. Gerthesnon turned to his men behind him and flicked his head towards Donnchan and his scouts. Two men stepped forward and drove their spears into the scouts' chests. They fell to the ground and slowly bled to death. One of the riders withdrew his spear and turned it on Donnchan. He drew it back and attempted to drive it forward but something was stopping him. He turned and saw Gerthesnon holding the end of the spear. He took it from the rider and drove it in himself, killing Donnchan. He had put an end to the Celtic leader.

They withdrew from the tent and ran or galloped to where the infantry were resting. Gerthesnon walked to the large rock and saw the scouts leaning over his father who was lying on the ground with his eyes closed. One of the scouts looked up. Tears were in his eyes.

"Sir, I'm afraid our king is dead. His leg was broken, he gave out and died. Now you are our new king."

Gerthesnon stared down at his father.

"Get him on a stretcher or something…and carry him back to the city and we'll give him a burial."

The whole army regrouped together and started the march back up the hill and through the mountains to home.


End file.
